Beyond Repair
by peanutbutter126
Summary: They drift away from her, and it's not like Temari's clumsy stitches can hold them together.


**I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.**

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_Beyond Repair_

She pricks herself. Again.

Temari lifts her finger to candlelight and scowls at the small droplet of blood that oozes through her broken skin. She wipes it on her pyjamas and glares at her finger, daring it to weep crimson.

It dares, so she shoves it roughly in her mouth.

The blood tastes weird, as if she had sucked on a metallic spoon. Temari doesn't like blood, never has. Her brother does, though, all too much. She finds herself staring at flame of the candle and its dance in the light breeze. He'd never been the same since…

Temari shakes her head and reaches for the needle to continue her sewing, unwilling to allow demons to haunt her. She wonders if this is how Gaara feels…

Her fingers fumble and the pointed tip tears into her skin and flesh. Again.

She sighs in exasperation and slams her hand down on the table. The needle rolls across the wooden surface, shaken by the vibrations, and falls to the floor with a soft _pinging _sound. Which genius decided to grant _needles_, half the size of senbon, with holes at the end? Why hadn't they had the brains to poke a hole in a senbon? They were much more easier to use and less likely to _prick her_!

Maybe she should have taken those hospitality classes after all.

Temari faintly hears Kankuro's snoring in the next room. She has teased him on it so many times that it no longer amuses her to hear his childish excuses and denials. He isn't that easy to tease nowadays, anyway. He walks around with weak chakra strings dangling from his fingers and a battered wire snake slithering in his wake. She tries to tease him about his face paint, but after a while, she realises that she is only talking to a mask.

Other than Kankuro's snores, the compound is silent. Temari finds it unnerving. Gaara was the only other inhabitant of their apartment, and his quarters lay on the other side of the dwelling. He was always awake, never slept. Temari tried to lay him in bed and soothe him to sleep once, two years ago. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but after their father had ruthlessly beaten her for her foolishness, she never dared to try it again.

She still has the scars, but she hides them under her clothes and conceals them with a smile when Kankuro asks her why she always sits so straight and barely allows her back to rest against the chair. Gaara had even asked her if she was okay, asked about who had hurt her.

It wasn't like she could tell him, so she didn't. The next day, he wordlessly pressed a bag of ointment in her hands and told her that Yashamaru requested he make the 'delivery'. Temari had smiled and told him to thank their uncle.

She wonders if she will ever see the smile on her brother's face again.

Gaara doesn't smile anymore. There is no Yashamaru to tell him that it is alright to express his emotions, no Yashamaru to teach him about love. So Gaara teaches himself, and Temari doesn't dare them him that, other than pasting the ridiculous kanji on his forehead, he's doing a horrible job of it.

Her brother is much easier to anger these days. Looking at the teddy bear he had ruthlessly torn apart just the day before, Temari finds herself relieved that it is not her in the toy's place. She could easily be, though. It could have been her that day, caught in the midst of Gaara's manic grins, screaming as her ribs were crushed.

But it wasn't her. It had been some unfortunate Chunin. Gaara had been in a pleasant enough mood to demonstrate the woman's death to her via his discarded teddy bear.

Temari sighs as she picks up the battered bear; its resewn head droops lower than it should, and when she tips it upside down, she can see the clumsy threads holding it to the main body. The last remaining arm sits on the table, waiting.

She wonders why she bothers. It wasn't like Gaara actually needs the bear in any way other than to re-enact his kills for his dear siblings. Temari remembers a time when Gaara had been like any other kid with a demon sealed inside him; quiet, withdrawn and nice enough if you tried to talk to him.

Back then, he hadn't been a bloodthirsty maniac.

Temari despises her father for many things, but it is destroying the innocence of her youngest brother that is the trigger to her cold fury. She grieves over her mother's death, of course, but Karura is gone, and the last present she leaves behind for her daughter is Gaara. Temari is mad that her father snatched the gift from her and wrecked havoc upon the contents before handing it back to her in a broken state.

Temari slides out of the chair to lower herself to the ground and feel around for the needle she had stupidly discarded. It would take her a _long_ time to find it; Temari knows this first hand.

She searches for the better part of half an hour. When she can't find it, she considers finding another needle to replace the one she had lost. For some reason, it doesn't appeal to her. She picks up the bear and its severed limb and tries to piece the two back together. But she isn't Kankuro; she can't hold them together without thread.

Besides, it wasn't like she could sew Gaara back together anyway.

Temari holds the bear to her chest. It smells like her brother, and it hurts more than an infinite amount of needles piercing into her flesh to realise a lifeless bear can be allowed to venture closer to Gaara than she ever will.

As she uses her arm to lever her off the floor, Temari doesn't notice the sharp prick in the palm of her hand.


End file.
